


Just The Ticket

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Peggy Carter, Awkward Crush, Blind Date, Bucky Barnes & Peggy Carter Friendship, F/M, Fanart, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steggy - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, tags will be updated along the way, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: Steve's dating life leaves something to be desired, to put it frankly. Every single date has ended in a crash and burn. His dates never find the scrawny blonde appealing and always find some excuse to abandon him. After his last date abandoned, Steve swore off dating for good. There's only so many times someone can see the disappointment in the eyes of your date.That all changes when Bucky insists he's found the gal of Steve's dreams and all he has to do is agree to go on this one last date. Having been burned and hurt before, he's wary but Steve finally agrees.Besides, there's no way that she could be the gal of his dreams when he road the evening train home with her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Minor Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse - Relationship, Minor Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons - Relationship, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, past Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. One Last Date

Oh,  _ there  _ she was.

A familiar, angelic woman dressed in muddy boots and a worn, leather jacket boarded the train, her eyes lighting up when she saw Steve slouched against the wall.  _ Peggy Carter. _ He’d heard her name from the various coworkers and friends that sometimes joined her on the ride home. In those times they both were without company, they sat in comfortable silence, too tired to talk beyond a simple smile in greeting. She wasn’t alone today, a woman with platinum blonde hair woven into a thick braid stood in front of them while Peggy took the empty seat next to Steve.

  
“Are you certain you don’t mind, Bobbi? I know your day was just as difficult as mine.” Peggy yawned, using a bandaged hand to cover her red lips.  _ “Excuse me, I’m exhausted.  _ I had to assist Banner and Simmons early this morning.”

“I’m not the one that sprained my wrist by wrestling with our gorillas this morning,” Bobbi pointed out with an amused look. “You need to rest, Peggy.”

_ “ _ Okay, Morse, first off I wasn’t wrestling. They had my radio and refused to give it back, I was bargaining. Second, you and Miss Simmons worry far too much about my health. Third, I am  _ fine.  _ Nothing a quick nap and coffee won’t fix. If I sleep, whose to make sure the rehabilitation doesn’t fall apart?”

Their conversation slowly weaves in and out of Steve’s focus, waking up just enough to hear Peggy’s accented voice rather than focusing on the words. His eyes flutter open at her laugh, the sound causing a spark of jealousy. He couldn’t even talk to her and yet he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

What was he thinking? They barely knew one another, he was lucky enough to even know her name! He doubted Peggy even knew his. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they took the same train home, Steve’s stop being before hers. The most he’s ever said to her was a stuttering thank-you after she woke him up in time for his stop.

Besides, there was no way Peggy was single, and even if Steve had lucked out and she was, he doubted she’d even want to date him. More likely he would be laughed out of the train, t _ he story of his life. _ Besides, if his dating record was anything to go off of, this  _ crush would  _ end in the same crash and burn as it always did. His last date didn’t even show up, causing Steve to regret ever getting his hopes up. After that, he swore off dating for good. 

Bucky just never could seem to find someone  _ right  _ for Steve, someone that didn’t see him as some pipsqueak guy. Dating, simply put, just wasn’t for him.

Despite telling Bucky this a hundred and one times  _ and  _ showing evidence of his track record, the man kept insisting on  _ one more _ date. His pestering has been going on for weeks now, countering every single one of Steve’s excuses. 

Steve just didn’t know if he could live with seeing the disappointment in his date’s eyes again.

Hearing Peggy’s voice caused him to be pulled out of his thoughts, trying to determine how far he was from his stop.

_ “...butterflies in the west wing,”  _ Peggy sighed, using her fingertips to start to pull her hair back into a tighter braid. “We’ll have to add that to the to-do list for tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll be there early to finish the paperwork. Maybe Phillips and Howard won’t kick me out if I avoid being seen on camera.”

Bobbi’s snorting and rolling her eyes caused Steve’s lips to twitch. “Did you even hear Phillips this morning? He told you to stay home this weekend and take a break for once. And I agree.” When Peggy’s mouth opened to counter, going by the scowl on her face, Bobbi shook her head and pressed on,  _ “But nothing. _ You’re exhausted and running yourself ragged, Peggy! You need to rest before you hurt yourself with more than a sprained wrist. We can last one weekend without you, I promise. It’s great you’re giving this career your all but you need a life outside of it.”

“Since when did you become the expert at life-giving advice?” Peggy snorted, clearly not happy with this arrangement. “I’m well aware of what they said, but I simply can’t put my career on the side knowing how short-handed we are.”

“Since I became an ex-wife to  _ two  _ different men because I chose a career over a relationship. I don’t want you to make that same mistake. You need to get back out there, you haven’t dated or gone out once since you’ve started this job.”

Peggy allowed her head to fall back on the cool window with a heavy sigh. “I hate how much I’ve told you about my life,” she grumbled, picking her head back up. “Bobbi, I  _ know  _ Hunter -”

“Hunter has made it  _ very  _ clear that he wants nothing to do with me. He made his choice and I’ve made mine. I haven’t spoken to him since he ran away and I don’t plan to do so now. He still has my number.” Peggy didn’t look too far impressed by Bobbi’s standpoint. “This isn’t about me, this is about you. You’re not making the same choices I have.”

“Since when did you become my life coach? If you must know, so you can stop pestering me, there’s a chance I have a date lined up soon…”

Steve didn’t hear the rest with his ears starting to ring, his heart dropping straight to his stomach. He was too focused on the fact Peggy might have a date. If there had been an opportunity to ask her out, it was now gone. 

He didn’t look up until Peggy’s perfectly manicured hand gently squeezed his biceps, drawing him out of his head.  _ “What-what’s…” _

“I’m sorry to have startled you, Steven, I didn’t want you to miss your stop,” she informed him with a small smile.

Steve wanted to ask how did she know his name, but all that came out of his mouth were a few garbled sounds. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and started to shove his sketchbook and jacket into the bag at his feet. 

“Th...thank you.” He barely managed to speak, the tips of his ears turning a shade of red as he got to his feet. If Peggy replied, Steve didn’t hear it. 

“Of course, Steven.” 

The way she said his full name caused his chest to fill with a warm sensation, not wanting to correct her. He was surprised he wasn’t starting to have a nosebleed from how flustered he was getting. A printed business card fell from Steve’s pocket as he pulled his keys out, Peggy reaching down to pick it up before he could.

She turned it over in her fingers, reading the block, blue words with an amused look.  _ White Wolf Bakery  _ with contact information and a website down below. “They sound familiar,” she mused, handing it back over to Steve who almost snatched it up with his nerves.

Bobbi piped up, “Sometimes I or Jemma will bring pastries from there. I know the owners.”

“I work there!” Steve could feel himself starting to get flustered, his nerves causing his hands to shake as he shoved the card back into his pocket. He was falling apart at the seams, his eyes refusing to make contact with either of them. “I-I mean...I’m a-a cake artist. I do the wedding cakes, birthday cakes and-and the pastries, sometimes. The designs in them. My-my best friend’s family owns it. They-they-they’ve got the best ch-cheese cake and apple tarts. My ma’s-” 

Steve wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not when his rambling was cut off by the train  _ finally  _ starting to slow down. The train’s sudden stop caused him to be thrown off of his feet, starting to be thrown right into the wall. Steve waited to hear the sickening crunch of the honey jars breaking from the force of the fall but they never came. Peggy had caught Steve in time, her injured arm pulling the skinny blonde against her chest to stable him.

This only caused Steve’s face to turn as red as her lips, his nose starting to throb with a familiar burning sensation. He had a nosebleed coming and fast.

He barely got to stumble out another thank you before he was bolting off of the train the second the doors were open. Peggy’s fond laughter chimed in his ears and for once it didn’t make him feel like someone was laughing at him for being a blubbering idiot. It sounded lighthearted and warm, causing his heart to flutter.

“Geez, Steve, you get into a fight?” Hunter hissed in greeting to the stumbling, flustered blonde. Bucky was already using a napkin to dab at Steve’s bleeding nose, shushing Hunter with a look.

“No-se,” Steve grumbled, slapping the hands away. He’s had enough public embarrassment for today and didn’t need Bucky tending to him like he was six years old and having nosebleeds all over the place.  _ “No.  _ I just got...flustered is all, it-it happens.”

Hunter just looked amused as Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders and dragged him along. “Did you finally speak to that angel?” At Hunter’s look, Bucky laughed. “Steve says there’s a woman on his evening train that looks like an angel.”

Steve grunted, shoving the arm off of him as his best friend pouted. He ignored Hunter’s snickering, shoving the jars of honey into the amused Brit’s arms. 

Could this be the same Hunter that Bobbi spoke of?  _ Nah,  _ it was impossible. Hunter never mentioned a name, just an evil ex-wife. 

“Well, she does look like an angel and...yes,  _ sorta. _ It was a disaster and I’d like to never speak about it again.”

“Sure, buddy. Instead, let’s talk about this week’s plans.”

  
  


There was a sense of exhaustion in Steve that he’s never known before. He’s known exhaustion, the type that is bone-deep, and aches every muscle in your body. The type, as you lay in the hospital bed, wondering just how bad it would be if he closed his eyes and refused to open them again. This one was new, it pulled at a sense of loneliness deep inside of his heart. The reminder of this reality in every step Steve took through his apartment. 

The blonde’s steps were shuffled as he trudged down the little hallway, kicking his shoes off near the door, his wallet, and keys placed on the hall table. Steve pushed his fingers through his hair, feeling the bits of flour caked in. Becca insisted that the flour sack wasn’t too full, only admitting Steve might’ve been right when it exploded on them. She was just as stubborn as her brother, if not worse. 

He loved them though, there was no denying that. The whole Barnes family were amazing people who’d taken care of both Steve and his ma after his ma had gotten sick. Winnie and George treated Steve like their son and were the reason he and Bucky were as close as brothers. That’s why no one was surprised when Steve started to work at the bakery all through college, or why when Bucky took over that he made it his solidified duty to hire Steve as his Cake Artist. 

Unfortunately, this came with the burden of Bucky insisting along with his brotherly duties came finding Steve a life partner.

_ “Stevie,” Bucky sighed in the same manner he always did when he was trying to get his point across. “If you told me you were aromantic or anything of that variance, then I would back off in a heartbeat and let you live your life but I know you’re not.” His forkful of sausage and pasta pointed at Steve’s chest with an almost frustrated look in his eyes.  _

_ This ‘brotherly date’ as Clint called them was Bucky’s attempt to make up for his last date abandoning him. These ‘dates’ were nice times for the two of them to just spend an evening outside of work together, but Steve got the feeling that Bucky set this one up just because he was avoiding the brunette. Bucky just didn’t know when to take no for an answer when it came to agreeing to another date. _

_ “How do you know I’m not?” Steve argued, annoyed when Bucky started to unconsciously take care of him. He always had a solution for something and while Steve did like the help, he was also stubborn and could do things himself. He knew the man couldn’t help it. The man was just a carer and unfortunately, lots of those carer instincts stimmed from Steve too. _

_ He watched bitterly as Bucky started to cut up his steak into chunks. He had spent a full ten minutes struggling to cut his food thanks to his aching and trembling hands. He could take care of himself, damnit. He didn’t need someone to baby him, to take care of him, and he certainly didn’t need Bucky to find him sympathy dates. _

_ “Are you really going to ask me that, Steve? How do I know? For one, I see your doe-eyed look when you see couples. This includes Clint and I half the time. I get it, we’re cute but you get this longing look on your face. Second, I’ve seen how you look at babies. You’ve always said you wanted a family, the whole white-picket-fence and all that jazz. And lastly, I know you! You always agree to these dates and no despite what you say, you’re optimistic about them. You have this hope burning inside of your soul that they’ll work out.”  _

_ There was a soft tone in his words that told Steve how sorry he was. He just knew better by now to voice it to Steve who would snap or dismiss it.  _

_ The day that a date actually ended well for him would be the day that hell froze over. The thought, enough to make his Catholic grandmother turn over in her grave, gave Steve some amusement. _

_ He got it, okay? Bucky was in over-protective brother mode thanks to the small fainting spell this morning following the exploding flour incident. The whole bakery was on protective mode to keep Steve safe from himself. _

_ “I don’t need you cutting up my food,” Steve grumbled, stuffing a bite in his mouth after snatching the plate back. Despite his reserve, he gave Bucky a grateful look. If he’d done it, they would be here all night. “Besides, sorry Buck, but you’re wrong. I’m happy alone.”  _

_ That just caused the brunette to snort into his goblet, threatening to spill his white wine. “You’re happy alone in the same manner Clint would be happy if he never got to pet another dog again. You can pretend and lie to yourself all you want about how you don’t want to be with someone, but I know different.” _

_ A beat of silence passed between them, the only sounds were their utensils hitting the plates. Bucky’s soft sigh claimed Steve’s attention, the brunette setting his fork. “I know it’s scary, okay? Dating is downright terrifying. Before Clint and I met, I felt...that dreadful loneliness too. It claws inside of you, tearing your heart to shreds. You start to resent happy couples around you because they have what you want. It makes you start to consider if there is something wrong with you.” _

_ Bucky wasn’t one for bearing his soul at least not in public like this. Steve slowly sat his fork down, his blue eyes falling to the pool of butter next to his fork. He’s had those same thoughts too. Maybe Bucky did know what he was talking about. _

_ “I didn’t know you were such a poet, jerk. Maybe you should give up baking and go into poetry.” The remark caused Bucky’s lips to twitch, mouthing ‘punk’ over his goblet. “Yeah, okay, you’re right! It’s a scary feeling, this uncertainty and anxiety over dating.” He paused to push stack his plate on the end of the table, his appetite gone. “I-I don’t-I’m not jealous of you and Clint, I swear. I’m glad you got him, Buck. He’s good for you and you’re good for him.” _

_ “Thanks, punk but even if you did, I think it’s normal. I mean you’re around us all the time, even if we try to keep the flirting and PDA down while we’re at work.” A look from Steve gave Bucky the impression the flirting and PDA weren’t as minimal as he had originally thought.  _

_ “Anyway, Steve, the point I’m trying to get here is that I know things are scary. Your health is a factor in this and I know, I know you hate being treated all fragile-like like you're some whimsy dame, but I know you’re not. And the next gal you meet, she won’t either. She won’t take any of your bullshit I’m fine speech either. You can say you don’t need love, punk, but I know you. You crave love as much as you crave to create art.” _

_ Despite how he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Steve knew his best friend had a point. He could tell himself he didn’t need love, but in truth, he did. He needed it as much as he needed to breathe.  _

The kitchen table was a testimony to the state of Steve’s life, spread over the cheap plywood surface. Invoices from doctors and hospitals covered most of the table. Pill bottles were pushed to one side, a few of them on their caps to remind himself to refill them. His inhaler that definitely needed a refill laid somewhere amongst that mess. A few takeout receipts poked out from between the bills, a reminder that it was easier some nights to eat out than cook.

The life of a baker was not an easy one, but it was a rewarding one. Every day but Monday, Friday, and every other Saturday, Steve worked from 4 am to 4 pm. He caught the early morning train to Red Hook, often beating the Barnes siblings to the bakery. They’d given Steve a key long before he started college, so by the time they arrived he was already working. It was his duty to get the pastries and muffins in the oven, check the orders they’d have put in overnight, and get those into the system. His main task was to decorate cakes and cupcakes, especially if there was a huge gala thrown by Howard Stark or a wedding coming up. By the time Bucky would come in, Steve would be kneading the fondant and cursing people’s obsession with it rather than modeling chocolate.

His last cake had put the family bakery on the map thanks to Howard’s design input. It was a three-tiered chocolate and strawberry curd filled cake, elegantly decorated with piped swirls clinging to the edge. The entire cake was encased in a thinly made, sugar glass bubble. The technique alone took Steve three weeks to master and the results had caused Howard’s eyes to light up and cause the genius to bounce around the room like a fool. 

A video was placed online of Howard shattering the glass over the cake resulting in beautiful, tiny sparkles decorating the dark surface. Since then, they’ve been busy from open to close and have gotten more orders for cakes than they could handle.

Bucky just about cried when Howard showed them the video, telling Steve how proud he was and giving the man embarrassing sloppy kisses on his cheeks. Howard had finally given the bakery the attention it deserved. 

It was a busy life, a content life.

_ A lonely life.  _

To ignore the annoying voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of how quiet the apartment was, Steve focused on cleaning his table. He grabbed at the small recycle bin and started to toss in the old bills and receipts. A name written down on the bottom of one with a number in Bucky’s handwriting made him stop.

_ Sally. _

She had been his last date, the one that made him swear off dating for good. It was supposed to be a double date with Bucky and Sally’s friend. The man spent a good hour helping Steve get ready in an orange dress shirt, black tie, and black jeans. He told Steve all about her and how they might’ve had the same classes in college. Steve remembered her. Sally majored in English and wanted to be a writer while he focused on pastries and art. They were opposites but still, Steve told himself he’d give it a chance. If anything, it made Bucky happy.

He arrived at the agreed point to pick up Sally from a coffee shop while Bucky was forced to pick up his date from across town. He’d even picked up a bouquet of roses, however cliche it was. Dates always made him extremely nervous and having something in his hand calmed his nerves.

He waited and waited and waited. 

Half an hour late for their date, Steve spotted her in the passenger of a small pickup. Her eyes raked over Steve from the seat, tapping the driver’s arm. He heard a shrill laugh from their cab before the truck sped off, leaving Steve feeling humiliated. The bouquet was deposited in the closest dumpster on his long walk home, a few missed calls from Bucky lighting his phone up.

That had been almost a year ago and Steve still felt the humiliation lingering. 

His kitchen table was a shrine to his terrible love life decorated with the receipts to diners, movie theaters, gardens, even suit rentals and flowers. A few of those receipts held scrap numbers from men and women who never called back for a second date or even confirmed a first.

He’d rather stay single than to see another disappointed look in his date’s eyes because he didn’t meet some unknown standard they had set. Steve  _ loved  _ who he was. He wasn’t the healthiest at times, but he was sure as hell a lot better from where he’d been in his childhood. Sure, he wasn’t 6’3 or had rippling muscles like Clint and yes, he still had ailments on bad days, but Steve  _ loved  _ who he was. Why was that a crime to some people? 

Why was he so hung up about this whole dating process, damnit? He hadn’t thought about a date in weeks, not unless Bucky brought it up and if he did, Steve tried to ignore him. Maybe it was because of Peggy’s prospect date and the bitterness towards himself about not finding the courage to ask her out.

Nothing he could do about it now beyond just sucking it up and accepting the single life. He told Bucky, despite his insistence that he was done with dating for good and that was that. Maybe that was a sign from the universe, telling him dating just wasn’t for him.

Bucky, as per usual ignored Steve’s wishes and started to pester him about going on this date for a few weeks now. Just this afternoon, he’d started to ramble on about her once Hunter had left.

_ “Stevie, I know the dating situation hasn’t been great, but I promise you’re gonna love her,” Bucky insisted, his arm back around Steve’s shoulders. Whenever he spoke about this mysterious date, he wore a grin on his lips like it was some elegant secret. Bucky was terrible at keeping secrets. “Can you just trust me on this one? She’s different, I swear.” _

_ “Funny, I remember you saying something similar about Sally and look what happened.”  _

_ The truth was, Steve, didn’t hold that against Bucky. The man had left his date when Sally arrived with another date, still giggling about leaving ‘the blonde rat’ at the cafe. He was so pissed off at her that he couldn’t see straight and instead of giving her a piece of his mind, Bucky ran straight to his best friend’s apartment to comfort the blonde. He didn’t even say anything when Steve started to frustratingly cry. _

_ It was clear Bucky still blamed himself because his face fell and his arm slipped from Steve’s shoulders. “I know, punk, I know.” He sighed and shoved his hands deep into his pocket. “If I had known she would’ve done you dirty, then I would’ve never agreed on the dates. Rather spent that time with you, watching Tangled or something. I can’t apologize enough for that.” _

_ Fuck. Why did Bucky have to carry the weight of Steve’s life on his shoulders? It made him curse and caused guilt to blossom in his chest. “C’mon.” His shoulder gently nudged Bucky’s arm, forcing a small smile. “I don’t blame you. She was...she never liked me in class, anyhow. I always scored higher than her on the exams and she was always jealous.” _

_ “This one is different, I swear.” And here they were, back to the beginning. “You’re gonna love her, Steve.” _

_ “I told you no, Bucky! How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want to go on another date and have it end up being a huge disaster. Now, can I go? I’m gonna be late for my dinner with ma.” _

_ At this point, Bucky had cornered Steve, rolling his eyes on the late comment. “You know the cabs are always late, but look, please? Can you just trust me on this one? I promise you’ll love her!” _

_ “The more you say trust you and that I’ll love her, the less I believe you,” Steve scoffed, folding his arms across his thin chest. “I’ll humor you, then, what’s different about her?” _

_ Bucky’s face lit up, glad to see his nagging had finally worn Steve down to at least think about it. “Alright, first off I met her at the bar Nat and Clint frequent where she knows that bartender, Angie. She works with animals, I don’t know where but she’s constantly talking about them. Last week she told Angie about how she had to wrestle some snake ‘cause it was trying to eat her phone.” He chuckled at Steve cringing. “Yeah, pretty gruesome, huh? She knows you work in a bakery and I showed her that video of Howard’s. Turns out, she was there because she knows Howard. She’ll punch me for saying this, but she was adorable when the glass shattered, like a kid with Christmas lights.” _

_ Steve laughed. “You deserve it.” Okay maybe, just maybe some part of this wasn’t bad. This mysterious person was starting to sound an awful lot like his train-mate, not that Steve would ever think he had some chance with her. _

_ “Maybe, but just listen, okay?” He was laying it on thick now, wanting to get everything out as fast as possible before Steve reconsidered his choice. “She kicks ass and takes names, okay? And she’s amazing and shut up, stop smiling, I know I’m rambling here. She won’t take any shit from anyone, seriously. She didn’t put up with someone’s sulking attitude when Angie refuses to serve them alcohol. I’ve never seen anyone tear a guy a new one so elegantly. I mean - hell, Stevie what made me think of you and her was the fact that when we met, she was kicking a guy out of the bar with nothing but a trash can lid. The guy had a knife and whatever she did, it made him drop it and run for the hills.” _

_ There was part of Steve who hated humoring Bucky because now that the man had gotten his claws into him about this date, he wasn’t going to let go. She did sound amazing, but she sounded like someone meant for Bucky or hell, even Hunter, not him.  _

_ “I’ll consider it, okay? Now, I really gotta go meet ma for dinner.” _

_ Bucky was still grinning as he held the cab door open for Steve, a twinkle in his eye. “Tell Mama Sarah I said hi and that I’ll be by to fix Miss Johnson’s light fixture tomorrow.” _

  
“There you are,” Bucky yawns in greeting when he finally spots Steve loading a line of strawberry shortcake cupcakes into the display cooler. “You know you’re hard to get ahold of.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he closed the cooler and stood up, rubbing at his sore back. “Yeah, sorry I saw your phone calls but by the time I got home, I was too tired to talk.” He was still tired now, having slept a handful of hours these last few days. “I’m sorry, Bucky but it’s been crazy here and I barely get time to myself. You know we have four more cakes, the hundred and one order of cupcakes, the welcome baskets, not to mention -”

The brunette huffed as he clamped his hand over Steve’s mouth to shut him up before he worked himself into a panic attack. The man did look tired, there were heavy bags under his eyes that stood out on his pale skin. He ignored the death look Steve was giving him behind his hand. 

“Stop before you give yourself a panic attack,” he told Steve seriously. “First off, all those orders are not on you alone. You have us and we’re dividing that work equally. The wedding cakes aren’t due for two more weeks so that’s helpful. Becca has the welcome baskets and cupcakes, okay? Take a load off your shoulders, Stevie. We’re a team here. Second…” He pulled his hand away when Steve licked it, rubbing it on his jeans. Steve wasn’t even paying attention to him at this point, his attention drawn to someone coming in the door.

Bucky’s eyes lit up as he recognized the platinum blonde hair and cozy grin peeking over the fluffy, pink scarf. _ “Bobbi!” _ He nearly shrieked her name, rounding the corner to throw his arms around the woman.

Bobbi grinned at the man hugging her, wrapping her arms around him and laughing when she was spun around. “Hey, James. I’m glad to see you too. I’ve been meaning to come by.”

_Bobbi. Bobbi Morse._ _Now_ it clicked in Steve’s head who she was and how he vaguely knew her. Clint’s ex-wife and Peggy’s coworker. Did Peggy send her? She said she wanted to check the place out, but he’d hoped _she_ would show up. She had the day off, he thought…well, nevermind what he thought.

“Whatcha looking at,  _ Steve-o?” _ Hunter’s voice cut through his thoughts, the man waving a hand in front of Steve’s face. “You’re not having another seiz-” His head turned when Steve shook his head and he heard a familiar voice.  _ Bobbi’s voice. _

“I’m gonna...gonna...whip cream.” He was sure Hunter didn’t even hear him, the man’s eyes locked on Bobbi. He took this chance to scurry into the back, hoping to remain unseen.

_ “Hey, Bobs,” _ Hunter mused, breaking up the gossiping between Bucky and Bobbi. He leaned far too heavily into the counter, his head supported by one arm.

  
_ “Hunter!” _ Bobbi sounded generally surprised, her eyes dashing between her ex-husband and Bucky. “James, I didn’t know you hired Hunter, why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky’s shoulders shrugged, biting his lip. “I didn’t know you two…” He stopped at Bobbi’s hard look. “He asked me not to tell you.”

She seemed satisfied with the answer, but not happy. Her hand patted Bucky’s arm to send him on his way before turning to fully face Hunter. “I didn’t know you were even back in town. Fitz was just asking me about you the other day, you should give him a call.”

“Did he now?” Hunter’s tone hadn’t changed, not even paying attention to how Bucky briskly walked away from the pair. “And don’t worry, Bobs I wouldn’t  _ dare  _ get between you and your work. Besides, I just got back last week and thought I’d hang around for a few. I forgot you knew this lot.”

Bobbi snorted. “You didn’t seem to forget anytime we got into a fight, how convenient you forgot now.” She pinched at the bridge of her nose, her brow wrinkled in some attempt to fight a migraine building up. She always seemed to have them around Hunter. “I don’t have time for this, I’m late enough as it is. Can I just get two cups of your strongest coffee, a dozen bagels, and the filled croissants? Avoid the chocolate ones, F-”

“I _ know  _ Fitz is allergic to chocolate. I’m the one that had to take him to the hospital the last time. Last I need is a phone call from Simmons about how I poisoned your two’s boyfriend. _ ”  _

“They’re not...nevermind. You’re impossible as always.”

Steve planted himself at the mixer just around the corner, watching the heavy cream starting to stiffen. He could hear the bickering from here and going by a passing Bucky’s look this was normal for them. He only looked away when Clint stumbled through the door. “Hey, man, your ex-wife-”

Steve didn’t even get to finish, Clint ran past him and needlessly vaulted over the counter to hug Bobbi. He could hear Hunter swearing from here.

_ “Clint,”  _ Bobbi laughed, hugging him just as tightly. “I guess today’s full of reunions, huh? How’ve you been?”

Clint’s head swirled to look between Hunter and Bobbi, an uncertain look on his face. He knew about Bobbi and Hunter’s complex relationship and how it caused Hunter to leave the states for a while. Best not comment on that right now. 

“Great, great,” he sighed, pulling his hat off of his fluffy hair and fixing his crooked hearing aid. “I just got back from seeing Barney last week. Bucky still refuses to come see him, he -” 

The man laughed when Bucky pressed a warm bag and steaming coffee carrier into Bobbi’s hands. “Bucky refuses nothing,” he countered. “I’m just busy with the bakery, besides we talk enough on video chat. That’s enough for me.”

“You just don’t like flying,” Clint countered, kissing Bobbi’s cheek. “It was good to see you, Bobbi. Give us a call and we’ll do dinner.”

“I’ll see what I can do, you know how busy my schedule is. Peggy and Phillips are planning to open -” Her words were drowned by the sound of something metal hitting the floor, followed by a few interesting choices of cuss words. She stood on her toes to see into the kitchen, spotting the familiar blonde with his lower half coated in whipped cream. 

“I see you guys have your hands busy. I’ll see you around, Clint, Hunter. Tell James I said bye and your Steve back there thanks for the reminder to stop by.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky was kneeling in front of Steve to help clean up the sticky mess. “Did your hands lock up or have a-”

Steve gave Bucky a look that quickly shut him up. “Or I just accidentally dropped the bowl. Seriously,  _ nothing  _ happened.”

Bucky didn’t look too convinced but let the subject drop as he helped clean up the mess and used a towel to dry the area off. “Shit happens, sometimes for a reason. Though this…?” He nudged at the towel with his foot. “That’s just because you’re a punk and need to slow down.” 

He ignored Steve’s protest, his eyes on Clint. The man was still half stripped from his jacket, over dramatically choosing a pink and gold cupcake for an excited, little girl. Turning back to Steve, he tossed the towel over his head and into the cloth hamper. “So, be honest, would it be shitty of me to try to ask you about that date one more time?”

“Very.” Steve didn’t look impressed, using a container of heavy whipping cream to start another batch. The bowel was properly secured this time. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on the back of his head. “Alright, I did think about it and  _ fine.  _ I’ll go on one date.  _ One.  _ When this one ends in a disaster, you are not allowed to set me up on any more dates.”

Steve was sure Bucky hadn’t heard the condition on agreeing to this date because the man was picking him up from behind and squeezing the life out of his lungs. He ignored Steve’s struggles before finally dropping him back to his feet and shoving a paper into his hands. “Thank you, Stevie. I promise you won’t regret this. Look, this is her address, alright? You’ll pick her up tomorrow at six. I’ll let her know tonight that you agreed to the date.”

Flipping the paper over in his hand, his eyes scanned the address. It wasn’t but a handful of blocks from his own apartment. “Hang on - you mean I don’t get her number? I can’t talk to her beforehand?”

What the hell was Bucky playing at here? Who just gave a stranger their address like this? He raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s cat-like grin, looking quite pleased with himself.

“No _ p _ e.” Bucky popped his lips at the p, avoiding Steve’s swatting hand. “You gotta trust me on this one, Stevie. It’ll ruin the surprise if you had her number.” He started to walk back into the office, pausing to turn around and grin at the blonde rooted to the spot. “Oh, right. Becca and I are giving you tomorrow and the day after off. No arguments, we’ve worked everything out with the schedule, coverage, and the decoration. If I see you in here doing anything other than getting a few snacks, I’m chasing you outta the kitchen.”

If Becca was agreeing to this ridiculous need for a long weekend, then Steve knew there was no point in arguing. He could argue until he was blue in the face and Bucky wouldn’t budge. He wanted to argue because they had so much to do, but he had to trust that they did have the schedule and decorations handled. Maybe a few days off wasn’t a bad thing, God knows he could do with some sleep.  
  


* * *

  
Steve’s watch told him it was now 4:48, the afternoon sun streaming through his bedroom’s window. The lazy, orange, and yellow light shrouded the blonde standing in nothing but his towel, where he stared at the outfits on the bed. He spent all day preparing for this date, from a well-deserved bath, to carefully shaving what little stubble he ever managed to grow, to even taking out several outfits to choose from. 

Now, all he had to do was just choose  _ one  _ outfit and meet this mysterious person and everything would be peachy. Or so Bucky made it seem but Steve couldn’t even choose a damn outfit. First impressions were important and he was already nervous that she was going to just be another crash and burn.

He had narrowed it down to three outfits: a baby blue pair of jeans and a white button-up shirt, dark blue jeans and an olive green button-up, and a way too much over-the-top suit. The suit immediately went back to the closet, Steve cursing his limited sense of fashion. It took several video calls to Bucky and Natasha each but in the end, Steve chose the olive green outfit.

_ 5:30. Time to go. _

Fall had officially arrived in Brooklyn, the crisp, cool air enveloping Steve as he walked down the street. A feeling he’d long forgotten about, since his other dates started to repeat a familiar pattern, developing in his abdomen.  _ Butterflies.  _ Nervous energy flooded his system, his stomach flipping over itself in a nervous excitement about his date. For the first time in a long, long time, he was excited for a date and Steve couldn’t be happier about it.

He was going into this date blind [pun intended], not even knowing her name, just that Bucky insisted she was perfect for him. This morning, Bucky woke Steve up with the updated plan for this date. He was to meet her at the given address and she would fill him in on the rest. Eventually, sometime in the night, the pair would meet up with him and Clint and they’d continue with a double date. 

_ “I just want you to get to know her first, punk,” Bucky laughed at Steve’s groaning response. “Come on! This is gonna be amazing, I promise. You just have to trust me on this one.” _

_ “Yeah, but…” _

_ Steve’s pout wasn’t seen but heard and well ignored. “But nothing, kiddo. Don’t worry about it, alright? Just be yourself and she’s gonna love ya. Don’t you dare be late, she hates it when people are late.” _

Tapping his foot nervously on the curb, Steve chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the lights change color. He walked with the crowd, trying not to let his nerves stop him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to forgive himself if they did make him turn tail and run back home.

Stopping by a flower stand run by an elderly lady, Steve purchased a small bouquet of multicolored mums. Flowers were always a good way to break the ice, weren’t they? Hadn’t his last few dates ended in flames when he bought them flowers? The reminder almost,  _ almost  _ made him put them back and decline the sale. Instead, he purchased the bouquet in hand and left before he could change his mind.

_ This is different,  _ Steve told himself, the pad of his thumb stroking lightly over the pink petals.  _ This isn’t like every other date you’ve had. This one is different. First off, she knows all about you from Bucky and has seen your work. She knows Howard. She can’t be surprised about your appearance or physique. And if she still held out on a date for so long as much as Bucky has been begging you to go, she must want you.  _

_ Or be that desperate,  _ the sly, nasty voice in the back of his head told him. Steve chose to ignore that voice as he rounded the corner. 

_ This had to be the ugliest door in all of New York. _ Hell, Steve would even go as far as to say in all of history. It was this bright god-awful almost neon yellow with neon pink polka dots. In some manner it made Steve sick to stare at, wondering if once again if he had the wrong address but no, no this was it. This was his date’s house. 

Maybe that was a sign. That was a sign, right? He should leave. 

The second the thought passed through his head, he saw the lace curtains in the bay window to his left flicker. Someone had been peeking around the lace curtain at him. He couldn’t leave now. Nor did he want to, even if this door made him sick. 

Figuring he’s been seen anyway, Steve had no choice but to knock. Fists closed, rapping on the frame hard in three sessions. Each sound his fist made caused his heart to lurch to his throat, to the point he thought he  _ really  _ was going to be sick. 

_ Silence. _

The silence seemed to stretch on and he was sure it was for no more than a few seconds, but to the blonde clenching the bouquet, it felt like an eternity. Steve let out a shaken breath when he heard the sound of someone on the other side of the door. 

_ This was it _ . No chance to run now, Rogers.

Not that he could, even if he wanted to. His feet were frozen to this very spot, on a dirty welcome mat.

When the door finally opened, Steve finally understood what all the secrecy about his mysterious date was all about.

She had changed her outfit from the braided curls for beautiful curls that fell down her shoulder in waves. The worn leather jacket and khaki-colored outfit beneath had been replaced by a pair of jeans and an oversized maroon sweater. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t confined on the train and he could actually  _ see  _ her now but Steve never noted just how beautiful her freckles were.

Peggy Carter, the woman from the train, the  _ angel  _ was staring at him with a beautiful smile on her red painted lips. 

_ “Peggy.”  _ The name fell from his lips in a soft prayer. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her, even as he awkwardly fumbled with the bouquet and thrust it at her chest. 

She laughed and Steve felt his cheeks growing warm. She didn’t laugh at him, though. Instead of laughing at him and tossing the flowers or awkwardly taking them, Peggy held them to her chest with a fond look from them to Steve. 

“You didn’t have to bring me flowers, Steven, but thank you.” She sounded sincere too, the one alone made him want to cry. 

As Peggy turned towards the door to softly scold someone on the other side and pass the flowers through, Steve could feel this relief rapidly budding in his chest. A fierce sense of relief burned through him, causing his muscles to slowly turn to jelly. He felt dizzy, holding onto the railing to support himself. 

_ There it was.  _ The one thing that had to ruin every good moment, that had to cause his date to look at him with disgust and keep their distance. The copper taste on the back of his throat was familiar, but no more so than the watery nose dripping.

Before he could act to hide it, Peggy was already pulling a tissue out from her purse and gently wrapping it around Steve’s nose. She didn’t look disgusted or put off by the fact Steve’s nose was bleeding. She just  _ accepted  _ it, like it was a simple thing to happen and that was okay.

_ “I-I’m sorry,” _ Steve tried to apologize, Peggy only responding by shaking her head. “I-I mean, you don’t have to...I can handle it. I’ve had enough of them in my life to know how to handle them.”

Peggy smirked at that comment as she let Steve have at it, watching him pull the tissue back to inspect it. “You have nothing to apologize for, Steven. If you’re curious, yes James did warn me about your bloody noses but I come prepared for anything.”

Now he was actually tearing up. Peggy suddenly found her red nails interesting while her date quickly dried off his face and cleaned up the last of the blood. Thankfully, they never lasted that long.

“I used to get nosebleeds too when I was a child,” Peggy mused as if this was nothing. She hopped down the steps with ease, Steve obediently following her. He was sure he’d follow her anywhere, long as he got to listen to her. “Normally, that’s because my brother and I would wrestle or so my mum insisted.”

“Funny because Bucky says I still get them for all the fights I got into as a teenager.” She looked amused at that and just that look caused Steve’s heart to flutter. “I didn’t fight  _ that  _ much. Just when people gave me no other choice.”

The Brooklyn accent truly came out of Steve when he was more relaxed and Peggy found she  _ adored  _ it. Somehow it just fit this feisty man. “And was another fight the cause of this one too?”

The blonde snorted and rolled his eyes as they stopped at the corner. “I-I got flustered because you...you...the door...I mean…” He sighed heavily, frustrated with himself. Things were going so well! How could he get flustered now?  _ “You just clean up nice, is all.”  _

_ Oh no. That’s not what he meant.  _

He should leave. Just run away, cut his losses. Change trains, maybe even change identities. 

Peggy was quiet, looking down at Steve with an amused expression. She lightly crossed her arms over her chest, but still faced him. “You have no idea how to talk to women, do you?”

“What gave that away?” he mumbled.

She laughed, causing the blonde to relax. “A little birdie told me. I think I’ll take it as a good sign that I flustered you.”

She held her hand out to  _ him,  _ rather than shying away or refusing to allow Steve to touch her. She was asking to touch him. The difference between Peggy who almost seemed to generally like him and his other dates was night and day. “Where are we going?” he asked, taking her hand in his.

She smiled, leading them down the street, the opposite way Steve had come. “That’s a surprise, but I hear you love surprises.”

  
  



	2. The Ride, The Date, The Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns what it is like to go on a date with Peggy Carter.
> 
> And how hands-on she can really be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death of the Winged Baboon is the funniest thing I could think for a book title. 
> 
> Please note, there is smut in this chapter. If you wish to skip the smut, it's towards the bottom.
> 
> [The Fan Art in this chapter was designed by the Amazing Not-The-Blue](https://not-the-blue.tumblr.com/)

_Surprises?_

He could feel his brain starting to fill with ideas as to what the surprise could be, each one more ridiculous than the last. Why would she want to surprise _him?_

“It depends on the surprise,” Steve replied carefully after a beat of silence, trying to stop his mind from reeling.

His long, artist fingers found their way in-between Peggy’s, the brunette making his knees weak when she gently squeezed them. She peered down at him with a tilt of her head and a small smile on her lips. She had such a pretty smile.

“Sounds like you’ve had some troublesome surprises in your life. Did they backfire on you?” Her tone sounded amused and only grew even more amused when the tip of his ears turned red. “Oh, now I _have_ to know about at least one of these surprises.”

That drew a laugh from Steve. He wasn’t sure if he was laughing at the idea Peggy wanted to know something about him like _actually_ wanted to know and sounded sincere, or her amused look like this humored her. She paused at the sound of Steve’s laughter, letting go of his hand just for the moment to type in a code into a padded lock that protected the neighborhood parking lot.

_“Well..._ when you grow up with Bucky, you get surprised lots. I guess my birth was a surprise technically? I was born premature - even my ma said I was a surprise.” She looked down at him and Steve held his breath, waiting to see the sympathy and pity in her eyes. When none came, he felt a little dazed. “Uh, he likes to surprise me with impromptu blind dates, or his sister when we were little would do makeup on me.”

What if this wasn’t what Peggy wanted to hear? Maybe she wanted to know more details about his life or maybe he should’ve made something up on the spot. “Sorry, that’s was...not what you wanted.”

Peggy’s lips curled into a soft smile, regarding Steve with a soft look. His confidence was teeter-tottering, never being able to find balance. It left him both feeling both on top of the world when she looked down at him or barely being able to meet her eyes. She’d taken his hand again and Steve was sure he’d follow her to the ends of the earth regardless if she held his hand or not.

“Of course, it’s what I wanted, darling. I did ask.” 

_This poor guy,_ Peggy thought, _he’s really been through the wringer, hasn’t he? Neglected by his dates, ignored by the people he had a crush on, and taken to seem like he needed to be pitied because of his size. It was all wrong - the guy was an absolute sweetheart._

“Steve, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine. Named her Rose Anglaise - Rose for short.” Before Steve could question her, Peggy had ripped the tarp off of a figure in front of them. Resting underneath it was a Harley-Davidson WLA. The bike looked like it was snatched straight from the history books, scruffs, bullet holes, and all.

The only modifications that Steve could see was a long, heavily padded seat and two lights installed on the front. He couldn’t help but walk around the beauty, using his fingertips to ghost over the sides of the bike and feel the cool, metal frame underneath. Even the leather bags attached to the frame were old and frayed from age and use. The paint and metal were designed to look old and tarnish amongst the olive-toned green that matched his shirt. A white star had been painted on the side to mirror what would’ve been there over seventy years ago. 

All, in all, she was a beaute and Steve could see the pride Peggy had for owning it.

_“Holy shit,”_ he breathed, not even aware of the words that escaped his lips. “You’ve _got_ to tell me everything about this bike, Pegs! Where-where did you get it? I thought - these are relics and so hard to find!” He stopped short in front of her, still afraid to touch the bike in some manner. He didn’t want to ruin it and ruin all of Peggy’s hard work.

“Well, it was a relic and just collecting dust in a friend of mine’s garage. He’d gotten it from a friend of a friend, won it in a poker match. It was nothing but a tarnished frame when I found her but now look at her - wait until you hear her _purr,_ Steven. I didn’t know you knew anything about bikes.”

“I don’t-I mean...not lots? I-I just know about this one? My neighbor had one growing up and he let me help him work on it. Mainly meant holding the flashlight but...but…” The blonde stopped stammering, watching Peggy mount and straddle the bike. “Wait - we-we’re taking this?”

In answer to his question, Peggy took one of the helmets from the bike and gently placed it on his head. He tried not to have that over-excited puppy look on his face as she clipped it in but it must’ve shown by how she kissed the tip of his nose. 

“Here, darling, behind me,” Peggy cooed, easing Steve onto the seat behind her. She wrapped his arms around her frame, Steve pressing his face into her backside and arms tightening just a tad. “We’ll take it easy, alright? Just keep a hold on me and your eyes closed. Motion sickness is easy when you’re not used to this thing.”

Pressed up against her backside, he could smell the soft, floral scent that he recognized from the train. In a manner, it was soft and calming and yet so _Peggy._ He wouldn’t mind if they’d had to be forced like this for hours, long as he got to hold her. Peggy didn’t seem to mind either. 

Steve’s yelp was lost in the bike’s roaring to life, the vibration and rumbling nearly throwing him off if it wasn’t for Peggy catching him. He could see now why she called it a beast, it was _loud_ in his ears and drowned the sounds of the world around him. There was one last charming smile from Peggy, earning a nervous one from him before she revved the engine twice.

Now he understood why Peggy warned him to close his eyes. The motions of the bike, however, gentle made him feel like he was going to sway off of it if it wasn’t for Peggy being his anchor. He clung to her tightly, knees hugging the side of the frame tightly and nearly brushing hers. He could feel the bike vibrating itself between his thighs. He wasn’t going to fall, Peggy had promised him that. He wasn’t worried about falling - he was worried about getting sick. Nothing worse than getting sick on a date.

Peggy controlled this thing like it was a tamed wild beast that only responded to her touch. The buildings and cars made sounds as they sped by them, over the roaring of their ears. She maneuvered them easily around cars, in between the tight spaces that left Steve sucking his stomach in. She laughed when he made a sound as they turned down an alleyway, the cobbled stones making his teeth chatter as they ended up on the other side of a not-so-busy street. 

Steve’s eyes parted just for a second as they made another turn, watching what little he could see of her face. Her eyes were bright and sparkling with life, flush on her cheeks from the wind, and a laugh on the tip of her tongue. He’d never seen someone so in their element before and _living._ She looked absolutely beautiful and despite the terror, the bike gave him to be on it, Steve found this is where he wanted to be if it meant he could see her like this.

By the time they’d come to a stop, the blonde found himself breathless and his face burning. When she killed the engine, he could still feel himself vibrating as if it was still purring. He was thankful for the silence between them, trying to gather his wits as he slowly pulled away from her. His ears were still ringing, the tip of his nose was cold but he felt _alive._ No doubt terrified, but _alive._

Peggy was just as breathless, sitting sideways on the saddle so her feet barely brushed the ground. The image made Steve think of the old cowboys he’d grown up watching. _“You lived!_ How was your first ride?”

With his ears feeling like they were full of cotton and Steve’s brain a static mess, it took a full second for him to register what she’d said. “A-amazing.” He tried to stable his breathing and not go off into a long-winded speech. “T-though, did we _have_ to go through that alleyway? I swore we were going to be stuck! The-The mirrors touched the dumpster.”

“We did unless you are the rare few who enjoy being stuck in New York’s traffic for well over two hours. And it was fine, I moved them in when I saw the dumpster.” She gave him a playful roll of her eyes, reaching over to ruffle the blonde’s hair now squished down from the helmet. “I don’t know about you, Steve but I’m starving. I think we deserve to stop for a bite to eat, don’t you?”

Following the tilt of his head, Steve finally noticed where they were. He’d passed by this place several times in the last few months but never had the chance to stop by. It looked like it was taken straight from the ’50s and plopped right in the middle of modern-day Brooklyn with its advertisements for malt shakes, hamburgers, and something called a bacon salad taped to the windows. With the ringing in his ears finally stopping, he could make out the 50’s music playing.

Looping her arm through her date’s, Peggy led them inside and straight to a booth in the back of the diner. A few waitresses stopped by to make small talk with her, taking down their drink orders and passing out the menus.

“Angie said you’d be stopping by!” A raven-haired waitress with her nose pierced said before Peggy could even open her mouth to greet her. “Is this your date? Oh, he’s _cute,_ like you could just eat him with a spoon.”

Steve wasn’t sure who was flushing more, him or Peggy. He just wanted to melt into the worn leather seats and disappear. Peggy, seeing the intense flush on Steve’s face, reached over to squeeze his hand gently.

“Yes, Deloras, this is my date, Steven.” She almost sounded annoyed, flicking her curls over her shoulder. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?” When they were finally alone, she looked back at Steve with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that, those girls never know what privacy is. I’ll be sure they won’t gossip too much about us.”

Steve’s thin shoulders shrugged, clearing his throat. “No, no it’s okay,” he breathed, looking down at their hands joined. “I just uh, am not used to...the attention.”

She remained silent as he pulled out a small, folded pouch from his pocket, sorting through a few tablets and a liquid-filled syringe until he saw she was staring at him. The tips of his ears turned red, quickly pulling the bag below the table.

“No, no,” Peggy breathed with a hint of urgency in her voice. “You don’t have to hide that from me. It doesn’t bother me. Have...others been bothered by your need for medicine?” Her change of tone alone told him what she thought of those people when he nodded. “They’re _your_ meds and as far as I understand, you need them to survive if you want any quality of life that’s not in pain or suffering. The nerve of some people! Please, go ahead and do what you need to do.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say, he knew what he wanted to do and that was to cry from the sense of relief he felt. Instead, he forced a smile and took the handful of meds he needed. “Quality of life is about the best way I could put it.” Clearing his throat, Steve sat up some and continued, “I have seizures at times, they’re not that bad or frequent with my new medicine. I only normally get them if I’m stressed or starting to get sick again. I got asthma too, but I think you knew that one by now. What’s especially bad on some days is my arthritis and really, I hate even saying that because it makes me feel so old.”

“You’re not old.” Her tone was sweet, but firm, punctuating the statement with a squeeze of his hand. “You just - as you said got the short end of the stick.”

“Maybe not but it makes me feel old. My muscles will ache and seize at the worst times, my hands especially given I work with my hands a lot. Sometimes they shake and by that point, I’m useless to even attempt to roll fondant. Not to mention - I got a weak immune system that’s _crap_ during the winter. I practically live off of Vitamin C when it gets cold.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to make sure to keep some compression gloves on hand - I heard they help out. And some Vitamin C pills.” Her eyes told Steve everything she didn’t say. She didn’t judge nor pity him, not for something outside of his control. 

“If you’re hungry,” Peggy continued, flicking open her menu, “the cook tonight makes a mean burger with anything you want on it. I do mean anything - a gentleman once ordered it with peanut butter and ate the entire thing in one sitting.”

“That’s...disgusting,” Steve breathed, looking down at his menu. “I take it that you come here often then?”

“My roommate owns this joint,” she explains with a shrug of her shoulders. “This is my normal booth, actually. I’m a creature of habit and like to have a full view of the room. I’ve always liked to have the advantage, just to be prepared.” At Steve’s look, she shrugged again. “My brother works in the military and installed these habits into me, they’re kind of hard to shake off.”

“Do you plan for us to get into any fights tonight?”

Oh, that cheeky tone in his voice made her want to _purr_ in delight. “I’m afraid the only fighting we’ll be getting into is over what flavor of shake to order, but…” She trailed off, her eyes holding his. Her foot gently hooking around his, making Steve squeak. “I’m sure if there is a brawl or two to be had, I can show you a move or two.” 

In the back of his mind, Steve was sure he could hear the ninety’s internet loading sound filling his brain as she played footsies andflirted with him. It took him a long moment to realize that Peggy had been chatting with the nose-pierced waitress again, often looking over at him expectedly. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Peggy asked in a soft tone, ignoring how Deloras snapped her gum in an annoyed manner. “You were spaced out there for a second. Are you ready to order? It’s okay if you need another minute.”

While Peggy didn’t look too worried for him, Steve could hear it in the tone of her voice. He shook his head lightly and picked the first thing on the menu. “The-the Scrambler, please, eggs sunny-side up, and-and hashbrowns.” 

With the menus gone, they were left alone with only a dull, pink table between them. Peggy had ordered a cup of coffee that she now sipped on, her hand still joined in with Steve’s across the table. 

“Breakfast for dinner?” She laughed. “Barnes is right, you do like breaking the rules.”

“What do you got against breakfast? There are no written rules that say you can’t have breakfast food for dinner.”

“Plenty when people claim they make the best hash on this side of the states and it’s nothing more than a soggy, greasy mess. Besides…everyone _knows_ that dinner is for dinner food, not pancakes and bacon.”

“Says the Brit drinking coffee at six in the evening.”

That earned him a cheeky tongue sticking out at him before Steve maturely responded with one of his own. A comfortable silence had lapsed between them, only broken up when Steve softly cleared his throat. “Pegs.” The nickname easily fell from his tongue, he liked how it felt, how it sounded. “Just...how come you didn’t say anything on the train if you knew I was your date? It’s just...Bucky had been pestering me for weeks about this date and if I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have...”

He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, letting go of her hand to rub at the back of his neck.

Underneath the thoughts, he felt almost ashamed for dragging Peggy along like that. She deserved better than him, she deserved better period. No one was good enough to be with her, himself included.

Peggy was quiet, watching him with interest as he forced the jumbling words out. “You had every right to keep telling Barnes no, Steven. I wasn’t going to make you feel like you _had_ to say yes because it was me. I don’t blame you for even saying no given your dating history and like I told Barnes, I don’t mind waiting until you were ready.” 

“Truth is,” she continued, sitting back against the seat. “I can see how you are on the train when you think no one is watching you. You’re quiet, thinking perhaps _far_ too much. You’re utterly exhausted some days and we both know those moments we’re not at our best to consider something as heavily as going on a date with another. I wanted to tell you about the date, but I could never find the right words when we were alone and I wasn’t sure of how to tell you because we never spoke that much. I wanted our first conversation about this date to be between us and with both of us level headed, but I think our friends sorta played matchmaker here.”

“Call me fashion,” she continued after a moment of thought. “But I like a little privacy in my dating life. I _like_ you, Steven. I like the _you_ I see on the train, the sweet and enduring man who had literally given a woman the shirt off of his back, the man who’d given a little, old woman her seat despite him being two seconds away from passing out.”

Steve didn’t know what to say or how to properly respond. He wanted to drape himself over this table, knock aside their drinks just to pull her into a hug. Instead, he looked down at his drink, stirring the straw around in the ice and lemon.

“A-a new mother,” he murmured, looking up at her through his thick lashes. “I gave my shirt to a mother with an-an infant that day. The-the baby was just barely a few days old and the mother didn’t have any clothes, so I-I gave her my shirt when he soiled himself. She was a single ma and so scared and frustrated and I know New York isn’t kind but I wanted to be nice to her, didn’t care what it cost me. Called my ma too, had my ma meet ‘em with supplies. I’ve been there, you-you know? Well, not with kids, I don’t think I can even have kids…” 

The rambling came to a stop when he forced himself to take a sip of water. He could feel his chest contracting with nervousness. Maybe he said too much… A glance through his lashes again told him the brunette thought the opposite.

“That’s the Steven I enjoy my company with.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, leaning slightly into the table so he could hear her. “I like _you._ A man who sees a single mother in need and helps in any way he can.” Leaning back into her seat, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear with a smile. “Besides, I love a good mystery. Have you read _Death of the Winged Baboon?”_

Water snorted out of Steve’s nose when he laughed at the name of the book. Peggy laughed too, making Steve feel better about just snoring water out of his nose in front of his date. He tried to apologize but Peggy wouldn’t hear it, even as he commented on the ridiculous name.

“You have an interesting taste in books,” Steve commented. “And men.”   
  


* * *

  
The evening was anything but uneventful as they people-watched in silence. A few young couples who seemed too handsy with one another came and went, one spending far too much time in the bathroom. Peggy’s comment on the man’s skirt being tucked into her thong caught their attention and they rushed out. One gal threw her drink at her date’s face before storming out, leaving the diner in a hush stunned state. An elderly couple lovingly fed bites of apple pie to one another, Steve’s heart swelling at the sight. 

The diner was full and noisy as one should expect, but in the very back of the diner, right next to the bathrooms, with a perfect view of the kitchen, the newly acquainted lovebirds sat in their own bubble. Hands joined together, under the yellow, domed light. 

Steve’s stomach growled to remind him of how hungry he was, only growling louder by the time their food arrived. He watched Peggy’s fork disappear into the meatloaf, a bite of hashbrowns and eggs halfway to his mouth before the question just pops out, “Do...they do meatloaf in London?”

His head tilts in a manner that reminds Peggy of a curious puppy, the question making her laugh around her forkful. _“Yes,”_ she breaths, rolling her eyes fondly. “They do. I’m the one that gave Angie this recipe. Here, try it.” 

Steve’s eyes light up as he takes a small bite, the sweetness of the hint of barbeque sauce played right with the saltiness of the meat and cheese. “You’re right, that’s _good.”_

“I told you so. She only sells it around this time of year, _maybe_ well into December if you’re lucky.” 

After their dishes had been cleared away, Peggy deemed it too early for them to head to their _actual_ dating destination. The blonde frowned over her choice of words - was this not the actual destination? Just a meal and talking? That’s the most he’d gotten out of these last few dates at any rate, but Peggy was quickly showing him she was _anything_ but like his last dates.

_“So,_ ” Steve mused after the waitress had dropped off his peppermint tea. Peggy was still giving it a side-eyed look, balking at the idea that he was even drinking tea from _here._ No American, in her opinion, could make proper tea. She didn’t trust any others to make tea but herself. “Your, uh...your job - I heard you talk ‘bout it on the train. What’s that like?”

It felt so awkward to ask a simple question. In truth, Steve wanted to know _everything_ about Peggy but finding the right questions to ask rather than blurting out _tell me everything_ was the difficult part.

He was staring at her with the full curiosity of a curious child, wanting to absorb any knowledge she’d given him. The questions he asked were normal dating, get-to-know-you questions but something about Steve just made it different. Peggy liked that. 

“It’s called S.H.I.E.L.D Rehabilitation. Don’t ask about the name, my boss named it, I was only along for the ride after everything was in place. We take in animals that can’t be returned to the wild mostly from being owned by inexperienced humans. Some are born sickly, missing limbs, others tore from their mother’s side when they’re just born, so they lack the knowledge and instinct to survive. We’ve even been granted the opportunity to open up a breeding program. I love my job more than anything, it’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done, but I will admit it is a little exhausting.”

When she spoke about her work, there was this sense of pride in her. Her eyes lit up and a fond smile was on her lips, just a few things Steve wanted to commit to memory. His fingers _itched_ to draw her like this. 

“But it sounds like good work, you help animals who would’ve suffered otherwise without your intervention.” His hand had somehow found its way back to hers. “From what you and Bobbi talked about, you work hard - enough for your boss to demand you take a break this weekend. Bucky thought the same thing, demanded I took the entire weekend off.”

“From the amount of work I’ve seen you do, Steven, I think you deserve a break too. I keep up with what your bakery has posted on their website and the last few wedding cakes have looked marvelous. Not that I will admit Phillips or Bobbi were right, but this break might be what I needed”

“Though, I think you're lucky if your boss hasn’t changed the locks on you yet. I’m sure Bucky and his sister are one step away from doing that to me. Works always there, you know? In the back of your mind.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give them any ideas,” she chuckled. “You're as passionate in your work as I am in mine. I’ve always wanted to do this - helping animals, solving problems. My parents, however, _hated_ it. My mum especially. They said it wasn’t lady-like for me to get so dirty and do a _man’s_ job. They wanted me to go to college, earn a degree in communications, and find office work. She’d even tried to set me up with some nice chap named Fred but he wasn’t what I was looking for - nor was that boring career.”

With a well-wanted career came sacrifice. Steve knew that as well as she did. He’d sacrificed his health at times, but to lose a parent, a relationship over a career choice? That’s a pain he didn’t know. He could sympathize, however. He squeezed Peggy’s hand gently and met his eyes. He didn’t pity her, he was proud of her for making these hard choices.

“Boring life, boring work. You crave adventure, to do good, to help others, Pegs, that’s nothing a parent should be ashamed of. I’m sorry that they are.” 

“Far as I understand,” she murmured, “you crave the need to help others too.” The pad of her thumb gently brushed over a burn scar across his knuckles, tracing out the various scars across his hand. “I ran away as soon as I was legally able to, I’d gotten a full scholarship to Brooklyn University and didn’t tell my parents. My mum only knew when she found the bed empty the next morning. She called me just to tell me that I was the worst person on this earth and how I was ruining my life before cutting off all contact with me. She still hates me for it too, but not my brother who _flew_ me here on a not-so-legal plane.”

The way she spoke about her brother, Steve noted, there was no resentment or jealousy in her tone. She didn’t blame him for how their parents treated one sibling over the other. “I can’t even begin to tell you how screwed up that is Pegs. All because you didn’t fall into this cookie-cutter life they chose for you?” He shook his head at the idea of how some parents could be, grateful for his ma. “I don’t know if it means much to you but I’m proud of you. You’re making something for yourself, making your own life. I wish they could see how amazing you are.”

She squeezed his fingers in a show that said, yes it did mean a lot to her.

“I’ve never flown before,” he mused, changing the subject. “Flying, it freaks me out. No, ma’am my feet belong on the ground. Closest I’ll get is on the Ferris Wheel or Empire State when I was a kid, haven’t been to either since.”

Her laugh is like bells, making him flush and feel warm all over. It’s a sound he’s cherished ever since he first heard it.

“Well, maybe I can get you on a plane, one of these days. Michael is an expert flyer, he’s retiring soon to start private piloting.” She paused in conversation, looking up when Deloras set a large milkshake between them. She poked two straws through the whipped cream and winked at Peggy. Peggy rolled her eyes and muttered something about Angie’s influence. 

“Tell me about bakery work,” she asked, leaning in to take a small sip. “How’d you get started there? I’ve seen your work with Howard and he _still_ talks about that cake.”

It was Steve’s turn to shrug, taking a large sip from the cold canister. He watched Peggy pull away, just to laugh at her nose being covered in whipped cream before she could wipe it off. 

“Bucky’s family always treated me and my ma’ like family. My ma is a nurse at Brooklyn Hospital - works with mainly kids - says she got a lot of practice with me. When she got sick enough to be hospitalized, they took me in and cared for me. When I was sick, hospitalized or not, they’d still take care of me when my ma couldn’t. They asked for nothing in return and that still astounds me - they gave so much...and asked for so little. I’m grateful.” He spoke in such a soft whisper that amazed Peggy how soft a deep-toned voice could get. “I wanted to help them out, pay ‘em back in any way I could. They’ve had this bakery in the family for generations, I think it dates back to the 1890s when the Barnes family first immigrated here.”

“Bucky and I are close - he’s like a brother to me. The only downside to that is, it gets annoying when it comes to my health or dating life. But I’ve always loved food and art, I love making people happy with desserts. I like making them look pretty, even though I know it’ll be destroyed within a couple of seconds, but for those first few seconds, the pure joy on a little girl’s face when she gets a cupcake piled high with icing or even Howard’s face when he saw that cake, that’s worth it to me.”

There was a fierce passion in his tone that Peggy hadn’t noticed before. Steve was proud of his job, in the same way, she was proud of hers. Their jobs were on two different ends of the spectrum but it’s something they both wanted to do. 

“I...guess it just started with wanting to help them out after school and stuff, but I guess I fell in love with the business along the way? I always wanted to make comics - I actually used to in college, but the bakery has become my main focus these last few years.” 

“I would love to see your comics one day when you’re ready to showcase them. If it’s anything like you do, I’m sure it’s splendid.” 

“That - _thank you.”_ Steve’s cheeks are heated up a soft pink and he has to clear his throat slightly. “I uh…how are you single?”

“I think...that’s self-explanatory,” Peggy shrugs, almost looking amused. “Dating just never truly interested me, I was always into my work. I could never find a partner who matched my interests enough or bothered to try to learn about me. I want a partner, someone equal to me, that supports me and I support them, not drag me down.” She sighed, looking annoyed at herself as she tried to find the right words. “I’m looking for the right partner.”

Steve blinks in an owlish manner, unaware he has whipped cream on the tip of his nose too until Peggy cleans it off. “You think that’s _me?_ Have you _seen_ me? I just almost had a-a panic attack trying to knock on your door! I had a nose bleed!”

She lets the panic slowly subside in him, fixing the blonde with a soft but firm look. “Yes, Steven, I see you. I think you’re exactly the person I’m looking for and if you think I’m wrong, then I’m afraid you’re just going to have to prove it.”  
  


* * *

  
“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Steve huffed when they’d stopped at their new destination.

He stumbled off the bike with Peggy’s help as she grinned at him in amusement. Turning around, she took in the sight of the _Brooklyn County Fair._ It was everything seven-year-old her could’ve wanted from the bright, flashing lights, the smell of fried food and sweet in the air, the various not-so-safe looking rides that popped up in just over a week. Screams could be heard from patrons on the rides, echoing around them. In the distance, beyond the banner, she could even make out the Ferris Wheel, slowly turning in a circle. There was an _excitement_ buzzing around them.

“No, I don’t think I am, unless we’ve both been poisoned while at the diner.” Her face remained completely stoic despite Steve’s looked only slightly alarmed. “Which I highly doubt we’ve had. Your friend - Bucky mentioned how you’ve never gone to a fair before and I thought I’d change that detail.”

“Why do you speak like that’s happened to you before?” When she opened her mouth Steve’s head shook. _“Nope._ I don’t wanna know. But I...” He surprised both of them when he hugged Peggy around her middle, feeling her arms tighten around his frame. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

“For you, darling? Anytime.” She pressed a soft kiss to his temple and took his hand, letting Steve fall into an easy step beside her. They paid for their tickets, Steve insisted he’s paying for hers until Peggy beat him to the punch with a satisfied grin. When he started to pout, she kissed his cheek and only made his face flush the same color as the ticket master’s bright red shoes.

She takes him down the well-beaten path that’s strewn with hay and trash, her arm around Steve’s shoulders as he leans into her. Despite the hundreds of people here, kids running around, some adults too drunk to stand, much less talk, this felt like their own private bubble again. That they were the only two people in the world enjoying the festivities. 

“Hey, look at that!” The kid’s shrieking voice drew both of the adults' attention towards a god-awful, ugliest stuffed panda that one had to have ever seen sitting on top of a shelf for one of the carnival games. It had bright, blue plastic eyes that looked far too both human and inhuman, an overstuffed face with an understuffed body. It was practically the size of Steve and to top it off, it wore an ugly, red ribbon around its neck. 

“It’s so ugly, it’s almost adorable,” Peggy laughs, turning them towards the game stands. “You wanna play for it?”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “Ugly is the word I’d use, but _uh…”_ He looked up at the panda, towards the games with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, it could be fun but _you’re_ keeping that thing.”

“Fine by me. He’ll go right beside my bed. How many wins for the panda?” She asked the bored teenager behind the counter.

“Uh…” His eyes flicker to the panda and then back to the pair. “Five in a row.”

It sounded impossible with how these games were notoriously rigged, but Steve got the sense that Peggy loved a challenge. She turned to him with an excitement that matched the kids around them, practically bouncing up and down on her heels. 

“Winner gets to name the Panda?” She asked, making Steve laugh. 

He should back down, he should say no. He wasn’t good at these sorta games. His hands shook, he had no hand-eye coordination unless something was directly in his face, but how could he say no to her?

“Okay but we’re splitting custody and I’m fattening him up,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. Reaching around Peggy, he was the first to pay the outrageous amount of a few games between them, childishly sticking his tongue out at her. She responded with a swift kiss to his temple, dragging him towards their first game.

_Pumpkin pop_ were crudely designed, neon orange balloons with faces of jack-o-lanterns drawn on them. They were given six darts each and instructed to hit the balloons. Simple. A minimum of three got them a small prize, but the max of six got them a big prize, all that they’d collect at the end.

“This reminds me I have to get a pumpkin for the shop to carve,” Steve mused out loud, turning the dart over in his slender fingers. “Any chance you wanna go pumpkin picking later?”

Peggy stilled in her inspection of the pink dart and for a brief second, Steve thought he’d said something wrong. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or trying to distract me so you can win,” she breathed. At the playful roll of his eyes, she gently nudged his shoulder. “I’d love to. We can make a second date of it tomorrow, perhaps? Apple cider and hayrides included.”

“Long as you add apple picking and I’ll make you the best apple pie you’ve ever had,” he challenged.

“Quite a strong statement but we’ll see. Believe it or not, I don’t have many apple pies to compare it to, but I’ve tasted your deserts, so I’m sure you’ll win.”

The compliment went straight to both Steve’s ego and his chest, feeling it blossom with warmth. He nearly missed the fact that Peggy’s first throw, towards a face that looked like it was winking at her, hit.

That little smirk she casts his way, he didn’t miss.

Maybe it was the fact that he got to ask Peggy out for a second date and she agreed or maybe it was the fact that after years of rolling fondant to the precise thickness and cutting with pristine figures had left him with better hand-eye coordination then he’d thought. Regardless of the case, Steve was still a little stunned by the fact that he’d won their first game. 

All six targets were hit by him, a white ticket was thrust at him by another bored teenager, and a red one given to Peggy for the four targets she hit.

Steve had expected Peggy to pout, throw a fit that he had bested her in a throwing competition. He expected her to throw his illnesses, the fact he had to calm himself down twice because of his shaking hands, but she didn’t. She looked down at him with a surge of pride and adoration that just made him want to faint.

She was _proud_ of him for besting her.

He was on top of the world right now.

_Pumpkin Chucking_ was their second competition. The same ideals went for it, three for a small prize, five for a large. The idea was to get at least three balls into the moving hoops. Easier said than done

Steve missed all five shots, nearly took out a lamp post when it ricocheted from the backboard. The worst had to be his last shot, throwing it too hard and causing it to nearly hit Peggy when it struck the plastic shield and bounced back.

She only laughed and later said it was a good thing Steve had done that or she would’ve missed her last shot. They still walked away with another white ticket, Steve wrapped up in Peggy’s arms as they walked away.

_Donut Tossing_ was another win for Steve with the goal of getting at least two small at least and four at most for the prizes. It took small, precise throws to get the rings around the moving targets. Something Peggy frustratingly _just_ barely being able to miss.

Still, as they walked away with another white ticket for him, she kissed his cheek in congratulations. 

One time he wished he could get the courage to kiss hers. 

_Scarecrow Shooting_ was a game Peggy was looking forward to and Steve was dreading. He’d never been good at holding a gun. George Barnes once insisted he needed to learn how to shoot to defend himself but later retracted that statement when Steve almost repeated _A Christmas Story._

The gun felt awkward in his hand, a long rifle that Peggy looked an expert at holding. Not for the first time that night or really since he’s laid eyes on her, he wondered if her only job had been working with animals. 

Steve’s eyes widened as he watched Peggy make every expert-like shot despite the target of the moving scarecrows moving fast. She looked satisfied as the disgruntled man handed her a white ticket before she passed the gun to Steve.

“You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you,” she teased, standing beside him. _“Here.”_

Dropping down to one knee, she adjusted Steve’s stance and raised the gun so it was aligned with his shoulder. It still felt awkward in his hands.

“I’m going to drop it,” he murmured, readjusting his clammy fingers. 

“You won’t,” she promised, her breath tickling the shell of his ear. “Just hold it closer, take a deep breath, and relax. Follow the target with your eyes and shoot.”

Peggy’s advice was solid, Steve had to admit. He’d shot five, technically four and a half targets, but he guessed the worker felt pity for him and passed Steve a red ticket. That didn’t matter to the blonde, Peggy’s proud look as he pocketed the ticket did.

This time, he did have enough courage to stand on his tiptoes and kiss her cheek. If his blush was anything to call himself a tomato, then the tips of Peggy’s ears were too.

She just laughed and held him closer, kissing his temple. “You did wonderful, darling.”

“Oh that’s crude,” Steve snorted at their last challenge.

There was a flimsy, rope ladder tied to the top of the wall, a bell sitting above them. Patrons were to climb the rope ladder, ring the bell, and get back down within a set number of seconds. It didn’t look easy, the ladder twisting and throwing people off the second they’d become imbalanced. Below the ladder, a sort of frame around the padding meant to catch people was a series of painted zombies that had seen better days.

Their eyes fall to their other competitor, a sandy-colored-haired girl that they’d seen upon arrival quickly scaling the teetering ladder to hit the bell and skitter back down like she was part cat. She grinned at them in arrival but ignored them for the most part. 

“Well, two for two,” Steve mused, rubbing his hands on his jeans again. “Winner takes all?”

“Winner takes all,” Peggy agreed as she got to the edge of the ladder, testing the ropes. “Careful with your balance on your knees, that’s where it gets you.”

Before Steve could question, their timer went off and he found himself on hands and knees, scaling the ladder. Peggy was right, having to balance his knees in time with his hands was the difficult part. He was nearly flipped over twice. His heart was pounding in his chest, feeling his chest and throat tighten. His vision was honed in on the bell, smacking it with all his might before he all but slid and fell back down the ladder. 

He couldn’t remember the little girl pouting, the worker saying his and Peggy’s score was off by a millisecond, or even that he’d won.

His chest was far too tight to breathe properly, face both pale and flushed as he laid his head back on something sharp. Peggy knelt in his vision and cupped his face, turning it to look at him. Her hands fished for the inhaler and shook it, holding it to his lips for him.

“Sorry,” he wheezed, eyes watering once he was able to breathe. She rubbed over his chest and gently pressed, trying to get his heart rate to calm down. “I-I...I can’t...I did…”  
  
“Shh,” she breathed, pressing their forehead together. “You have no reason to apologize, darling. None. You did amazing. Take your time in recovering. I wish you hadn’t pushed yourself so hard - not for some silly game. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

All she could do at Steve’s shrug was smile, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

The panda they’d won, dubbed Mr. Sparkles by Peggy, was carried on her back as they left the game area. “Look, cotton candy. That’ll perk you right up.”

The two smaller prizes they had won, a pumpkin and a bat were given to a set of twins they’d seen running from game to game with no tickets between them.

They sat at a small bench to share what he thought looked like smothered corn dogs, fried cheesecake, and bountiful of cotton candy. Peggy didn’t belittle him or treat him like he didn’t know any better after that slight asthma attack, instead she just gently encouraged him to rest a moment longer and take as much as he needed to recover. 

Their short walk had come to a destination that Steve had seen Peggy eagerly looking at, one that made his heart flutter. A bright white Ferris Wheel was lit up in rows and rows of slowly blinking and flashing lights, amongst the dark sky. He was thankful that these were the umbrellaed gondolas with closed in seats rather than the bar across the lab kind that he’d seen on TV. So maybe he wouldn’t freak out _that_ bad.

“Would you want to?” Peggy asked in a soft tone. “It’s perfectly okay if you don’t, Steve.”

How could he say no? She wasn’t forcing his hand here. She was looking at him with honest energy, her eyes bright. She looked so happy and excited to see the Ferris Wheel that telling her no felt like a damn crime.

“Long as you don’t make me look over the edge, then we can.” He could handle being in the cart, even if it's his head between his knees. “Sure, sounds like fun.”

Nothing could wipe that grin off of her face as they were loaded into their own gondola and the door secured. They sat Mr. Sparkles across from them, Steve reaching over to turn the panda to look out rather than at them. 

“Come here,” Peggy breathed, pulling Steve close to her side as they slowly started to rise. She could feel him tensing beside him, forcing him to lay his head on her shoulder. Her fingertips gently threaded his short hair, stroking the few floppy locks away from his face. As they slowly rise, she looks out the window with a content sigh, watching them rise higher into the air.

“You’re okay,” she whispers, kissing his temple. “Just keep your eyes closed and tuck into me.” She paused, the wind gently rocking them. “Thank you for coming with me on this thing, darling. I know how heights bother you.” 

Steve’s eyes crack open just a little to see a skylight lit up by the brightness of the ride. It takes his breath away, part of him wanting to commit this to memory to sketch later. The beauty of it, he realized as he turned to look up at Peggy, paled in comparison to her.

He expects her to be annoyed or ashamed of him for having such a silly fear, but there isn’t any in her loving expression. It’s _that._ It’s loving and he can’t wrap his mind around as to why she would still like him after this silly fear.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he explains with a half-shrug. “You wanted to go and I wanted to be with you. I-I told you. I’m fine, long as I don’t look down.”

Their cart gently swings as the ride stops at the highest point, most likely to let the people off down below. The wind isn’t so cold around them, almost pleasant as they’re gently rocked back and forth.

“It’s beautiful up here,” she comments, looking out at the skyline. “You can’t smell the city so much. When the wind blows, you can smell the ocean and the noise isn’t so much up here.”

_“Yeah,_ it is.” Except Steve’s eyes are on her and he has to agree - she is beautiful. The lights are harsh but they do nothing to diminish her beauty. They light up her features and he finds himself wanting to kiss her nose, her cheeks, _everywhere._ “Do you miss it?” He asks instead, chickening out on the thoughts. “Home? London?”

Her hand finds his as if she could read his mind and squeezes it lightly. “I haven’t considered London my home in a long, long time. Even before I considered moving here. It was merely a place to live, to lay my head down at night. I like to think Brooklyn is my home.”

“Course it is. Course it’s your home - Brooklyn is welcome to anyone. My ma’s not from here too - she’s from Ireland. I was born here by the grace of God. She made Brooklyn our home.”

“Then I’m glad it can welcome me.” Her red lips twitch into a smile and he feels them shifting closer to one another. A force pulling them together. “Even if _your_ welcoming is rather late, I’m glad _you’re_ here to welcome me home.”

_This is it,_ Steve thinks, his heart pounding in his throat. They’re going to kiss. Sure, the cheek kisses had been one thing, but this? This was his first _real_ kiss and it was pathetic to think that at 26. He can see her getting near, her fingers brushing his cool cheekbones. Oh, her hands are cold. This close, he can make out the hazel flecks in her eyes, count her eyelashes, the freckles on the tip of her nose.

Should he pucker up? Lean in? What the fuck should he do?

A buzzing noise, like an old speaker attempting to come to life, causes them to jolt back from one another. It’s then Steve realizes that the cart hasn’t moved for several minutes, the cart slightly swaying now.

His face is flushed as much as Peggy’s and she looks embarrassed.

_“F-olkks!”_ The crude voice is coming from a small speaker in the roof of the cart, making Steve have to cover one ear from the loud buzzing. It’s skipping, unable to hear the full sentence. _“Maintenance...situation...locked...get...down...folks, hour…”_

His face turned to look at Peggy’s in complete horror. They were stuck up here for at least an hour? At the highest point of the Ferris Wheel? _No, no, no._

_No._

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, feeling his face pale of all color. He can’t _breathe._ His chest feels like it’s caving in, his head is swimming. He wants to vomit. There’s an overwhelming urge to tear his heart out of his chest so he doesn’t have to feel it beating so hard. He wants to pass out.

Peggy’s on top of it, as she always is.

“Okay, darling, it’s okay,” she whispers into his ear. Taking her jacket off, Peggy lays it on the floor and gently leads both of them to sit down on it. She pulls Steve into her lap, cradling him against her chest, tucking his legs to the side. Her one arm is cradling him, the other brushing the small hairs off of his forehead, running her knuckles over his cheek, his side, anything to comfort him through touch.

Her smile is comforting and sincere. He needed that.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she tells him in a soft, but firm voice to get the point across. “I want you to know that, darling. It’ll be over before you know it. These things...happen all the time and it’s no worse than getting stuck in an elevator. The first time I can remember being in an elevator, I was young. All I remember was, Michael was taking me up to some tower, we could see through the glass. I was so excited. _Except…”_ She gave a small laugh. “My hair got caught in the elevator’s doors.”

Steve’s face turned to look up at her, some color flushing back to his cheek as he calmed down. His breathing was a little bit more stable. “You’re kidding,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Pegs, what happened? Did you pull it out?”

Her face pinches slightly. “My mother insisted a lady never cuts her hair. She’d always braid mine, use harsh chemicals that did nothing to tame my curls, and just try to brush them away. Michael is just a few years older than me, so father had given him a knife to carry and well, you can imagine how that ended.”

“How upset was your mother?”

“Very. She insisted I should’ve sat still and waited those hours until the doors were opened instead of Michael sawing my hair off. The good side of this was that I finally got my haircut to the length I wanted.”

Steve chuckles into Peggy’s shoulder, aware that his hand had been holding hers the whole time. It’s warm and peaceful against her. The wind can’t quite reach them and from this height, all he can see is the top of buildings and the black, inky sky above.

She shifts them so she’s looking down at him, her fingers had resumed stroking his hair and smiling warmly down at him. Steve doesn’t _think,_ he just does.

He pulls himself up enough to kiss her, a bare brush of the lips. It’s enough to cause his heart to jolt to his throat, to feel Peggy’s arms around him tighten. He’s pulled back in by her and he goes willingly, feeling their lips firmly touch.

The most ungodly sound of a soft moan escapes his lips and they part, Steve’s face burning hot.

“I’m surprised,” she muses, stroking the soft blush on his freckled face, “you _aren’t_ having a nosebleed this time.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just kisses her again. He likes the taste of her lips, he likes the feel of them. The soft kisses she lingers behind when he pulls away to breathe. She doesn’t judge him for that.

He certainly likes it when she kisses a spot below his ear, making his whole body feel like jello.

He tries to kiss her in return, but he’s not as experienced or fluid. He presses a few to her jawline, kissing to her earlobe. Peggy is gentle, she shifts them just enough so Steve can reach the right spot that she likes, that makes her moan.

And oh, oh, _oh_ his body just _melts_ at that sound and he wants to hear her make it over and over again.

“We don’t have to do this,” she tells him, pulling them away just enough so their foreheads touch. “You - I...I don’t want you to think we have to do this. I am perfectly fine just sitting here with you or even just kissing.”

She’s concerned? About him?

It takes Steve’s muddled mind a minute to wrap around that. “No, I-I _want_ to do this. I just…” He shrugs and he thinks it goes without saying. 

She must understand because Peggy smiles and nods. “Okay, darling. Let me take care of you, okay? You deserve to be taken care of.”

She kisses him again, soft and slow, holding him against her chest like before so he cradled against her. Her hand found his thighs, giving one a gentle squeeze. He can see the growing tent just in front of her hand, fully aware of how much he was aching at this point.

She makes a surprised noise when she cups the bulge, the pad of her thumb seeming to know _just_ where the most sensitive spot on him was. A startled gasp leaves his lips, a sound she drinks down, as his hips ground into her hand. 

He felt like a horny teenager who just found out what pleasure was. He doesn’t want Peggy to stop for anything.

He felt almost embarrassed to be humping her hand, moaning softly when she hit that right spot. Peggy stares down at him with all the adoration in the world, as if she’d never want to be anywhere but here with him. It makes his head fuzzy, as much as the endorphins filling his veins. Peggy knows what she’s doing, she’s squeezing just right, drawing out new sounds from his lips. 

It’s all beautiful pleasure, building up to a peak that he didn’t know he could reach so soon. He doesn’t want it to end, he wants to stay like this in her arms. He wants to return the favor, but he can’t think. Steve doesn’t _want_ to think, he just wants to exist.

_Oh._

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and he feels himself starting to tremble in her arms. There’s a warmth blossoming in the pit of his stomach, his balls tightening in a manner that he hasn’t felt in so long. Before he could even warn her, stars are bursting behind his eyelids, his hips jutting heavily in their thrusts. There are no words he could use to describe the pleasure crashing into him, dragging his body under the water and drowning him.

Despite how he can’t see her, Peggy smiles down at the trembling mess in her arms. Her fingers still rubbing him softly, guiding him through his orgasm. “Let go for me, darling,” she whispers in his ear, kissing that spot just below his earlobe again. _“There_ we go, darling. I have you, I won’t let you fall.”

A sob rips through his lips, reaching his peak. The sobs turn to painful gasps, turning his face to press into her neck as the wild thrusts of his hips slow down to a stall. He clings to her like she’s his lifeline, sobbing hard while his senses come back about him. 

Peggy doesn’t say a thing while she shifts them so she could hold him tightly against her, rocking them side to side in a soothing motion. “I have you,” she whispers once more, letting him pull away when he seems to finally come down. Using the end of her shirt, she gently cleans his face up, pressing soft kisses to his nose. “I told you, you’re safe with me.”

“I-I,” Steve feels himself stammer, just barely shaking his head. 

“It’s normal,” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I will not have you apologize over it. Was it good, darling? You looked so beautiful coming undone. Thank you.”

Peggy is thanking _him_ for that?

“No, th-thank _you._ I haven’t done that in a-a long time. I-I’m a virgin, I...” As he sat up in her arms, Steve was painfully aware of how much his boxers stuck were wet and sticking to him now. 

“Steven, there is no need to be ashamed of being a virgin. I am glad you allowed me to have you, darling, to share that with me.” She leans in close and kisses him, Steve’s limbs turning into jello in her arms. “Once we’re on the ground, why don’t we...handle the rest? I’m sure you’re eager to get out of those clothes.”

Finding her pretty eyes again, Steve nods before her sentence is even finished, making her laugh. He loves that sound as much as her moans. “I want you to teach me how to please you.”

“You’re so sweet, darling.” In truth, no man had ever told her those words. They were full of themselves, they’d brag about their skills with their mouth but then focus on their own orgasm, leaving her to use a toy right after. She had no shame chasing her own, even if her partner was still in bed.

It’s why she’s given up on dating for a while. 

“I think we can start simple, don’t you think?” she muses, laying her hand down on his sensitive crotch to give him a quick squeeze. It draws out the dirtiest sound she’s ever heard, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Oh, look, we’re moving. Come on, up you get, darling.”

“I think that’s perfect.” Using the pole to balance himself, Steve helps pull Peggy up before grabbing Mr. Sparkles. “Sooner we can get home and get these boxers off, the better. If-if you want to come back to my place, I just assumed...your roommate…”

“It’s okay, Steven.” She has the best ways of calming him down, turning him into putty. He’s not even aware they’re stopping. “I think your place is perfect. You’re closer to us than mine and no offense to Angie - I want you all to myself.”

That’s all Steve wanted to hear.

Peggy is on a mission by the time they’re back on land. She only pauses in her beeline for their bike to let Steve relieve his bladder. The panda is secured between them, the almost flat body crushed as Steve holds onto Peggy’s frame.

It doesn’t take him long to get them to his front door, his nerves hitting him as he fumbles with his keys. Peggy’s perfectly manicured hand lays over his own, her free arm pulling him by the waist into her chest. 

“We have time,” she whispers against his temple, steadying his hands so they could unlock the door. “We have all the time in the world right now, my darling. Let’s not rush.”

Despite her words, Steve kisses Peggy, having to stand on his toes to do so, the front door being kicked closed by Peggy’s foot. He barely notes where they deposit Mr. Sparkles, more focused on the woman nibbling on his earlobe. 

Peggy made a promise to herself as the bedroom door closed behind them; she was going to teach this boy everything she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Panda is the Worst and Best thing I have ever thought of and *need* to see this in real life.
> 
> The next chapter *will* be smut based.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was everything ya'll dreamed of it to be. Let's see how their date goes.


End file.
